


I Know We're at the End (I wish it was the middle again)

by cathcer1984



Series: At the Beginning (Again) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Stiles Stilinski, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mentioned Past Drug Use, Other: See Story Notes, Peter Hale Is The Left Hand, Post-Break Up, Rimming, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slut Shaming, Temporary Amnesia, mentioned past alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: John swallowed thickly. "I honestly didn't think you would come.""Why wouldn't I?""You haven't seen him in three years.""I am aware of how long it's been since Stiles walked out on me, thanks to your interference." Peter drew in a shuddering breath. "I love him. That will never change no matter what you, or he or anyone else thinks. I love Stiles and that should be enough of a reason."The two men stared at each other for a long moment. John looking away first. Peter felt a vindictive sort of thrill that was short lived when he remembered that the only reason Stiles was happy to see him was because he'd forgotten how much he hated Peter.*Or the one where Stiles has amnesia and Peter pretends they're still together. Until Stiles remembers, that is.





	I Know We're at the End (I wish it was the middle again)

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 21 Oct: rating changed from T it E because it wasn't E until I finished writing and I forgot to go back and change it.
> 
> My first Steter fic. I apologise for any OOC-ness but I never watched the show and guessing my characterisation based on other fics. 
> 
> I know nothing of New York apart from what Wikipedia told me. Same with driver's license violations.
> 
> If I need to tag anything else please let me know. 
> 
> Warning clarification in the end notes.

Stiles' head hurt, he limbs felt heavy and when he tried to open his eyes they were heavy and the light hurt. He let out a groan, tried to speak- "Pe'r" he thinks he said before a hand smoothed over his cheek and he fell back asleep. 

*  
The next time Stiles woke he was able to open his eyes and blink at the hospital room around him. The curtain around his bed was a pale green, not the usual blue and his dad was asleep in the visitor's chair, neck at an awkward angle. 

"Dad?" Stiles rasped out. He licked his lips and tried to wet his mouth, "Dad."

John jerked awake eyes on Stiles. "You're awake. Thank god you're awake." He stood, and moved close enough to press a kiss against Stiles' forehead. "I'll go get a nurse." 

"Where's Peter?" Stiles asked leaning back against the pillows. 

His dad froze for a second, "I sent him home to sleep for a bit. You've been in here for three days. I'll be back soon." 

Stiles drifted off to sleep before his dad came back.

*

The third time Stiles woke he felt better, his head ached and the nurse smiled at him as she was taking his blood pressure. "Welcome back to the land of the living Mr Stilinski."

Stiles frowned at her, "who are you?" 

"I'm your nurse, Julia. Just checking your blood pressure, oxygen saturation and temperature. How's the headache?"

"It's fine. Where's Melissa?" Stiles looked around his little curtained off room, "And Peter? And my dad?"

"Mr Stilinski, Stiles, breathe. In and out, nice and slow that's it." Julia smiled kindly at him. "Your father is just on the phone, I'm not sure who Melissa is-"

"She's a nurse here." 

Julia paused in writing her notes, "And where is here, Stiles?"

"Beacon Hills. The Memorial Hospital."

"What day is it?"

Stiles rubbed his nose, "Um. I was at school on Wednesday so maybe Sunday."

"Close, it's Saturday. What year is it, Stiles?"

"You don't know?" Stiles grinned.

The nurse smiled slightly, "humour me, please."

"It's 2014." Stiles paused. "Right?" 

Julia passed him a cup of water with a straw, "Have a drink, slow sips and the doctor will be with you shortly." She wheeled her machine away before Stiles could ask anymore questions. 

Stiles felt tired again and soon drifted off to sleep after his dad came back. He was woken for the doctor and asked to answer more questions before he fell asleep again. 

*

The next time he woke Stiles was alone. He was tired, scared and confused. Where was Peter? Had his dad left? Why hadn't he seen Melissa? Or a nurse he recognised?

Soon enough the Sheriff came through the curtain. He looked older than Stiles remembered, wan and tired. "Hey kiddo."

"Hey, dad. Did I miss Peter again?" 

John stared at Stiles for a long moment, something like hesitancy in his face. "Stiles, Peter is, well he's-"

"Right here, darling." Peter's voice came through the curtain barely before he did. He shared a look with Stiles' dad before moving closer to take the hand Stiles had stretched out towards him. "Hello sweetheart, I've missed you." There was a tightness around his eyes as he looked Stiles over almost hungrily, his hand was warm and tight where it gripped Stiles' own. 

Stiles smiled in relief. "Hey babe."

Peter's face flickered with grief for a millisecond before covering it with an eye roll. "Has the doctor been by yet?"

"Yesterday." John answered. Peter turned to face him. "Stiles, you- you have some memory loss. It's 2019, not 2014. We're in New York, not Beacon Hills." 

Stiles looked between his dad and Peter. "Why are we in New York?" He glared at his dad, "You hate New York." 

John took a deep breath in but it was Peter who answered. "We're having a bit of a vacation here. Your dad is your emergency contact, so he needed to be here to talk to the doctors." 

"Oh." Stiles closed his eyes. "Why aren't you?"

Peter's hand tightened around his for a second. "Hmm?" 

"My contact, why's that not you?" 

"Because we're not married."

"Yet." Stiles smiled slightly thinking of the ring he had hidden in his underwear drawer at home. He cracked his eyes open to see the ashen look on his dad's face and Peter with his eyes closed, jaw clenched. "Peter?"

Peter looked at him, face soft. "It's been a long few days. I'll go and see if you can have anything to eat yet." He smoothed a hand over Stiles' hair before getting up. Stiles clung to his hand. "I'll be coming back. I promise."

He strode out, curtain flickering behind him. Stiles' dad waited all of two seconds before getting up, "I'm just going to uh- get coffee." 

All of a sudden Stiles was left alone with his headache and wondering what on earth he'd missed.

* 

"Hale." 

Peter turned from the nurse he was talking with to see John striding down the hallway. "John." Peter inclined his head a little, the motion not enough to show submission but with too much sincerity to be mocking. 

"What are you playing at here, Hale?" 

Raising an eyebrow Peter replied calmly, "I'm not playing at anything. You're the one who called me." 

"My son was in a coma, with brain swelling and amnesia asking for _you_." He spat the word out like it was offensive, or more accurately that Peter himself was the cause of all offense. "I called you to help him. I didn't call you to scent him or claim him in any way. He is not yours."

"No. You saw to that quite thoroughly, did you not?" Peter didn't try very hard to keep the sarcasm and condescension out if his tone.

John took a step towards him, close enough that Peter could smell the wolfsbane he was carrying. "You can't have him." John pronounced each word deliberately. 

"I think you'll find that I can. I will take whatever parts of him I can, John, when I can have them." Peter squared his shoulders, he wasn't as tall as John, but there was no doubt that Peter was stronger than John- physically, mentally and emotionally especially when it involves Stiles. Peter rolled his eyes when John's scent soured with anxiety, anger and fear. "Don't worry, I won't do anything he wouldn't consent to if he had all his memories. I'm not that much of a monster."

John swallowed thickly. "I honestly didn't think you would come." 

"Why wouldn't I?" 

"You haven't seen him in three years." 

"I am aware of how long it's been since Stiles walked out on me, thanks to your interference." Peter drew in a shuddering breath. "I love him. That will never change no matter what you, or he or anyone else thinks. I love Stiles and that should be enough of a reason." 

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. John looking away first. Peter felt a vindictive sort of thrill that was short lived when he remembered that the only reason Stiles was happy to see him was because he'd forgotten how much he hated Peter. 

"Excuse me?" They turned to find a nurse standing there, "you had a question about Stiles Stilinski? I'm Julia, his nurse."

Peter blinked, "yes of course. He's awake, is he able to eat anything?"

Julia looked between Peter and John, "are you his... family?" 

"I'm Peter, Stiles' p-partner." Peter hated the way he tripped over the word, he'd long since lost the right to call himself that. "This is John, his father." 

"Oh." Julia's cheeks flushed and Peter smelt her surprise and embarrassment. "I'll just check his vitals and bring see what I can find him. He's missed lunch and dinner is a couple of hours away." 

"Thank you Julia," Peter offered her his most charming smile. She flushed even more and walked away without another word. Peter ignored John and the overwhelming stench of his disgust and stalked back to Stiles' bedside. 

Stiles was pale and as beautiful as Peter had ever seen him, perhaps even more so with the three years forced withdrawal. He smiled fondly at Stiles who reached out for him again. Peter took his hand, pressing his lips to the palm "your nurse will come and check your vitals and bring you something to eat." 

With a bright smile Stiles said "thank god, I'm starving." 

Peter looked him over, drew in a deep breath trying to ingrain Stiles' scent into his nostrils and memory. He barely survived the last time he was cut off from the man that Peter knew he likely wouldn't come out of this situation alive. 

"Hey," Stiles' voice was soft and he swung their joined hands to get Peter's attention, "you okay?"

"I'm fine, love. Just worried about you." 

"If you're sure." Stiles' eyes were narrowed in suspicion. 

Peter could feel his heart breaking over and over the longer he spent with Stiles and the effects of Stiles' concern and love. "Quite sure, sweetheart." 

Thankfully the nurse came in and Peter was able to get a small bit of distance and a reprieve as Stiles ate the sandwich she brought. 

* 

Stiles was free to leave the hospital two days later. The doctors prescribed rest and more rest, no strenuous activity and after a couple of weeks or so his brain should be fully healed and his memories would start to come back. Or so they said. 

But Peter now had a deadline. A month, give or take a few days. He could survive that long, probably not after it but that doesn't matter to him. Not now, not anymore. He knows what life is like without his mate. It's difficult, a battle everyday to not succumb completely to the wolf. 

He's survived this long by travelling around north and south America's acting as a nomadic left-hand. Doing the dirty work for packs that can't or don't want to do it themselves. Peter quenches the wolf's thirst for _mate and Stiles and sex_ in blood and violence. He'd tried fucking someone else once and almost killed her. He hasn't had sex since.

A gentle hand runs through his hair and Stiles presses himself close. "You were miles away. You back with me now?"

"I'm back." Peter promises, "I'm with you until the end of the line." 

"Sap," Stiles says with a chuckle and a soft kiss against Peter's cheek. 

They're in Peter's hotel room lying on the bed together. The tv had been showing some movie but Stiles must have turned it off. "I love you," Stiles says frankly and Peter closes his eyes against the burn of unshed tears. 

"Quite right to," Peter responds hoarsely in the way Stiles expects him to. Stiles huffs a laugh and curls into Peter's side. "I do love you, you know." Peter says seriously. There must be something in his tone because Stiles rolls to lie on Peter's chest looking him in the eyes. 

"I know. I do know that Peter." 

Unable and unwilling to stop himself he curls his fingers through Stiles' hair and cups the back of his head. "I love you more than life itself, baby. I didn- I don't tell you enough." 

Stiles smiles widely. "You tell me all the time. You don't always say the words but you tell me every time you kiss me, in every endearment, in each brush of your hand over my hair and neck and face. You tell me you love me when you take care of me, like you are now. You tell me when... Peter?" Stiles' fingers brush Peter's cheek smearing the wetness there. "Peter, what's wrong? I'm here, okay. I'm not going anywhere." 

Peter couldn't speak for fear of saying something wrong. He tugged Stiles into a tight hug. He didn't know that Stiles could read him so well, that he knew how much Peter loved him by what he did for Stiles. Stiles was stroking Peter's arms and chest whispering soothing words until Peter dropped off to sleep. 

*

They didn't go out much, the noises, lights and smells were overwhelming for both Stiles and Peter. They did go out for walks later on in the evening when the city had quietened down a bit but they never stayed out long. Peter loved spending his days with Stiles, they would watch tv or movies. They would nap in the afternoon, Peter would wake up with Stiles in his arms and his scent soaked into Peter's skin and clothes. Stiles had asked once why he didn't have any clothes in the hotel, Peter lied saying they decided he would only wear Peter's clothes in a city like New York. Safer for Stiles as there was no stable pack keeping the city safe and it kept Peter's wolf calm. 

Before he knew it a week had gone by. Stiles was looking better and better each day. He was still stuck in 2014, the middle of their relationship, the happiest time before everything went up in flames metaphorically speaking. 

As much as he wanted to Peter never kissed Stiles and only accepted brushes of lips against his cheek. He could smell Stiles' frustration, he could feel his erection in the mornings and would feign sleep until Stiles went into the bathroom. Peter listened to Stiles bring himself off in the shower, aching in more ways than one. 

*

One day, almost three weeks after Stiles had come out of hospital they were lying together on the bed watching a tv show, Stiles didn't know what, he was too busy almost falling asleep in Peter's arms. 

Then Stiles' phone rang and he fumbled to answer it. He moved out of Peter's grip, Peter turned the tv volume off and Stiles sleepily said "hello?" 

"Stiles!" A male voice shouted. "Where the fuck are you?" 

"Uh."

"Look, man, I don't care but you've got to let me in the apartment to get my shit. I left some expensive stuff at yours that doesn't exactly belong to me. So get over your funk, let me in and I'll be out of your life for good. Okay?" 

Stiles didn't know how to respond. 

"Stiles! I can hear you breathing, don't fucking ignore me."

"Who is this?" Stiles demanded. 

"What? Are you yanking my chain? Stiles it's Josh, you know the guy you've been fucking around with for half a year. Or have you replaced me already you whore?" Stiles felt cold and clammy. He hung up the phone and stared at it. It rang again and he flinched when it was taken out his hand.

"I'm sorry, Peter I am so sorry. It's not true, you know I would never cheat on you." Stiles chanced a look at Peter's face, devastated by the heartbreak he found there. 

"Shhh, sweetheart. It's alright, it's all going to be alright." Peter cupped Stiles' face in his hands. "Let me call your father." 

"But-" 

"Don't worry, love." Peter pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. He pulled away and drew out his mobile. "John. Come to our room, there's been a development." Peter paused as Stiles' dad responded, he glanced at Stiles before saying "Josh. Ten minutes, John." 

Stiles felt sick. 

They waited in silence, Peter's hand a comfort on Stiles' back but he felt so confused. He head hurt and he wanted to cry, Peter seemed so far away. He had blurry images in his head. "I-" 

"Yes?" Peter's voice was soft. 

"I have an apartment. It's got a green door. Number 4C." Stiles pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright lights burst behind his eyelids. 

"You're remembering." Peter paused, "how long have you been remembering things?" 

Stiles shrugged, "couple of days. Not much, but it doesn't make sense." He turns to Peter, "you're not there. Why aren't you there?" 

A knock sounded before Peter could answer and he looked an odd combination of devastated and relieved. He squeezed Stiles' shoulder before moving to open the door. 

John came in and sat beside Stiles. "You okay, son?" 

Shaking his head, Stiles didn't know what to say. John pulled him in close for a hug. 

"He's remembering things, John." Peter was standing near the door, keeping himself away. 

Stiles felt his dad's chest heave with a deep breath. "Oh. Right, then we need to talk." John brushed a hand through Stiles' hair. "Sit up for me, kiddo." 

Shifting himself back Stiles curled into the couch looking at his dad, for some reasons he didn't want to be looking at Peter. "We're not together anymore, are we?" 

"No, son, you're not." John shook his head, face impassive. "You left Beacon Hills in 2016 moved to New York. And Peter has been..." He trailed off.

"Around." Peter offered from the doorway. 

"What about Scott?" Stiles asked, jumping when Peter growled. "He hasn't called me at all. He's not even in my phone." 

John glanced at Peter before replying. "When you left you broke contact with everyone." 

"Except you, right, dad?" Stiles had a sinking feeling in his chest when his dad avoided meeting his gaze. 

"Even me. I didn't know you were in New York until I got the call from the hospital." 

Stiles sucked in air. "I- what happened?" 

Shaking his head helplessly John said "I don't know."

Peter let out a derisive scoff. "The hell you don't. But let's not go into that now. You'll remember in due course, Stiles. It isn't exactly something I wish to relive though." Stiles chanced a look at him. Peter looked as impassive as ever, but Stiles knew there was a forced ease in his stance, a tightness around his eyes and jaw that betrayed his discomfort. "I believe this is the part where I bow out. You can stay here if you'd like the room is paid for another month. Excuse me." He strode through to the bedroom area and started to pack his bag. It didn't take long. 

John watched the floor and Stiles' eyes burned until the room blurred. When Peter made his way back to the door he scampered off the couch and gripped his arm. "Please, Peter. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Stay, please don't leave me." 

Taking in a shaky breath Peter pulled Stiles into a tight hug. "Trust me, love, you don't really want me to stay. Don't ever forget that I love you, even now, darling." He tried to push Stiles away but couldn't. John came forward and pried Stiles' arms from Peter's waist. "You won't see me again." Peter said to John before he was out the door. Stiles clung to his dad and cried.

*

Peter could control the wolf for a month after he left Stiles. It was easier because of Stiles' scent on his skin and clothes but as that started to fade so too did Peter's control. He estimated he had another couple of weeks before he went insane. 

Stupidly, he stayed in New York. He went north of the city to Westchester, Hudson Valley. There were lots of people he could get lost in, a stable pack that would take him down when he finally lost complete control to the wolf. 

He was sitting in a bar drinking whiskey wishing he could get drunk. Peter thought he could smell Stiles but knew it was just his scent on the cardigan Peter was wearing.

"Hello Peter." 

Peter froze. He knew that voice, he didn't want to look to see if he was hallucinating. A pale hand came forward and touched the back of Peter's fingers. "What are you doing here?" Perter snarled. 

"I wanted to thank you." Stiles said as he slid into the seat on the other side of the table. "What you did... I never would have expected or asked you to do that." 

Peter eyed him, he looked good. His hair was wild as ever, eyes bright, face serious. "You're welcome. You can go now." Peter said, watching Stiles closely for his reaction. Stiles' shoulders slumped. 

"You said you love me." 

"So did you at one point and look where that got us." Peter knew he was being petty and cruel but Stiles being here was only going to prolong his suffering when he left again. Peter couldn't afford for him to keep coming back.

Stiles ground his teeth together. "It wasn't about not loving you Peter, it was about not being able to have you."

Eyes flashing red Peter noticed Stiles' shock and snarled. "And who had the authority to make that choice? I clearly wasn't me. Or even you. What makes you think in three years anything has changed? You don't know me anymore Stiles, you know nothing about me or my life and who is in it." Peter stood, dropped a twenty on the table to cover his drink and leave a generous tip before striding out the bar. He heard Stiles stumble along behind him. 

"Can you, for one second, stop being so damned distant?"

Whirling around Peter flashed his fangs, the gibbous moon in the sky making his tenuous control even more strained. The street lights covered them in a strange orange glow. "I don't understand what you want. I helped you when you needed it, when you father asked for it and now, in return I want you to walk away just like you did three year ago." 

Stiles flinched back as though the words were a slap in the face. "That's not fair. I didn't mean that... I just want to see that you're not unaffected by-"

"Unaffected." Peter repeated, voice dangerously quiet. "I woke up to an empty bed, I thought you'd been taken. I went to see _Scott_ and he laughed in my face. He was pleased that I was so frantic when he knew you were safe upstairs." Stiles was watching him with a horror-filled expression. Peter kept going, he wanted Stiles to hurt like he had. He wanted someone else to suffer. Peter had always been good at making the people he loved turn away from him. He knew where and how to hurt them and took a sick pleasure in doing so. 

"Tell me, sweetheart, did you watch from the window as I clawed at his throat? Did you cry when he shredded my chest so badly I almost died from the blood loss? Do you think it's funny that I went on a rampage when the pack bond to you broke?" Peter stepped closer to Stiles. He let his eyes flare red, "the only reason I survived the alpha attacking me is because I was suicidal enough not to care if I died. Forgive me, darling, if the mere act of clinging to last vestiges of my control makes you think I am unaffected."

"Peter." Stiles came closer still, eyes glinting in the orange light with tears. "Peter, I- I don't. I'm so sorry. We've lost so much time." 

Shaking his head Peter took a deep breath and Stiles' scent calmed him enough to pull the wolf back. "We've lost nothing, Stiles. We're done. We were done when you left without telling me why, when you acted like a child instead of an adult. We were done the minute you started getting your memories back." 

"What if I don't want to be done anymore?" Stiles asked. He rubbed a hand across his eyes smearing wetness over his cheeks. 

"What if I do?" Peter countered. 

Stiles stepped close enough to curl his fingers into the bottom of Peter's cardigan. "I don't believe you. You wouldn't have come otherwise." 

Slowly Peter closed his eyes, he wanted so badly, he wanted Stiles so much it hurt to be near to him but the problems they had hadn't disappeared into thin air. 

"After I left, I barely functioned. Scott, Derek, Lydia, my dad even Malia couldn't contain their glee. They acted like I was a victim who was strong enough to leave an abusive relationship." Peter flinched. "But you were so good to me. You take care of me and you love me. My head was turned by words from people I trusted and respected. I didn't trust myself, my instincts or you. And that wasn't fair to either of us." 

He rested his forehead against Peter's collarbone. Peter _almost_ tipped his head to the side to bare his neck. Stiles let out a shuddering breath. "I saw you fight with Scott. I did cry. I saw the blood in the grass and I thought you'd realise I wasn't worth the fight and the pain. I also realised that Scott no longer had my back, he didn't trust me. He hasn't since the nogitsune killed Allison."

They stayed quiet for a moment, Peter didn't know what to say and he thought that Stiles had more he wanted to. He was right. "After Scott, I went to Lydia. She was vicious about you, called you manipulative and abusive. Said you were taking advantage of me. How she said it, it made sense, you know. Why would you be with me? I'm weak, hyperactive, loud, obnoxious... a caustic personality. Derek was against us from the start, but he hates you for Laura so he was understandable. Malia though, she was my friend. "

"Malia was jealous." Peter admitted. He lifted a hand to finally touch Stiles, holding onto the back of his neck. "She didn't like her ex and her father together. She hated me and wanted you. Obviously thought if we ended she would be able to pick up the pieces for you." 

"I never wanted us to end Peter." Stiles whispered. "I just didn't know how to go on with so many people against us, all the time. My dad... we had a long chat. After I remembered everything. He admitted a few things." 

"He did?" 

Stiles nodded against Peter's chest. "Told me he arrested you after I left." 

"For statutory rape." Peter confirmed. "He had no evidence to support his claim that I'd touched you before you were legal." 

"You didn't though. I mean, not sexually." 

"I'm aware but you weren't there. When he had to let me go, he shot me and threatened me to never come back to Beacon Hills." Stiles pulled back quickly. 

"He what?" 

"Threat-"

"No. He shot you?" Stiles demanded. 

Peter smiled, "yes, love, he shot me. I'd not long healed from Scott's attack. I got out and never looked back." Peter looked around. "This isn't the best place to have this conversation." 

Stiles let out a soft laugh. "No, I suppose not. Will you come back to mine? Please, just to talk. It's long over due."

Unable to say no, and not wanting to Peter agreed. "My car is just around the corner," he said. "Did you drive?" 

"I got an uber." Stiles looked a bit sheepish. "I don't drive anymore. My license got suspended. I'm eighteen months into the two years." 

They began walking to where Peter parked, Stiles half a step behind. "Two years is the maximum suspension. Multiple violations." 

Stiles was quiet, heartbeat elevated but steady. "Drug driving, drunk driving, speeding." Peter turned to face him incredulously. "You're not the only one with unhealthy coping mechanisms. I'm clean now, part of my sentence. Dad was furious when I told him."

They reached the car and Peter held Stiles' door open for him. He slid inside with a blinding smile and a brush of his hand down Peter's arm. Peter used his supernatural speed to round the car, not wanting to be away from Stiles for too long. Even if they parted ways after their talk, and Peter suspects that they will, the closure will be good for Stiles and Peter will have another month or so to repair his relationships with Derek and Malia.

"I'm surprised John didn't have alerts out for your name." 

"He did. I didn't use it." Stiles smirked, "I went by Stiles Gajos, fake ID. My mother's maiden name. My legal name is, as you know, not Stiles."

"I know, Mieczysław." Peter let out a chuckle at Stiles' grumbling. 

They drove in silence for a while, Peter making his way back to the city. It wouldn't take too long, less than an hour for certain. 

"So where have you been?" Stiles asked, knee bouncing and fingers tapping with nervousness. 

Peter sighed. He didn't want to have this part of the conversation in the car, but if Stiles asked Peter wasn't going to lie. "All over. I've traveled around America, Canada, Mexico, even into South America. Brazil, Argentina and Peru." 

"Doing what?" 

"Murder, mostly." 

There was a sharp spike in Stiles' scent. "What?" 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I call myself a nomadic left-hand. It was my job in the pack. I was Talia's left hand, I did the dirty work. Nowadays a lot of packs don't have one, it's something for older packs steeped in traditions and the Hale pack was one of the oldest. We've been werewolves for over two hundred years. But packs still have trouble with Omegas, wendigos and the like, you're aware of what's out there. 

"So I went around and I killed them. It's the only way I could keep my wolf under control." Peter admitted, he hated being vulnerable but he knew he had to be honest. "I did not have a lot of control. Especially after the first full moon without you. The only way I could keep the wolf sated was by satisfying it's blood lust."

"I'm sorry." Stiles' voice was low. Peter couldn't get a gauge on what he was thinking.

"Stop apologising. It isn't your fault. Unlike you, I couldn't have sex with anyone else. Not that I didn't try." 

"You..." Stiles trailed off not fully asking the question. 

"Yes, I tried to have sex with someone that wasn't you. She ended up in hospital and scarred." Peter swallowed back the taste of bile in his throat. "April knew I was a wolf, she was a pack human. I thought I was over you, that I would be safe. As soon as her mouth, well, I'm sure you can imagine where. I had my claws in her throat."

"Jesus Christ, Peter."

"Their emissary was good, a witch not a druid like Deaton. She is fine, we still keep in contact. Her Alpha was understanding but I was invited to leave. Of course." Peter glanced sideways at Stiles who looked pale and shocked. 

"And how did you become an Alpha?"

"Ah, well it's all interlinked. April's sister was not as understanding. She'd married into another pack that had been decimated by hunters, Maria I think her name was. We crossed paths as I was leaving April's pack and she was coming to them. She could smell April's blood on me and she attacked." Peter paused for a moment and turned the car into a side street and pulled to a stop. He shifted in his seat so he was facing Stiles. "You need to understand something Stiles, I wasn't insane but I was reckless. I should have submitted, I should have washed the blood off, I should have done a lot of things that I did not. 

"However; I let Maria attack me. I didn't care, at that point whether I lived or died. I let the wolf take over, it relished in the fight and the blood and the violence." Peter closed his eyes, slightly ashamed of how much he had enjoyed ripping the Alpha apart and being shredded on her claws. "I came out of that battle the victor. I inform April and her Alpha of what had happened. Informed them of where I had buried the body, what was left of it. I'm not proud of what I did, I wasn't out of my mind, I would go so far as to say that I enjoyed it." 

Stiles' face was full of pain. He reached out a hand as if to touch Peter before drawing it back. He said nothing. Peter waited a few moments before starting the car, "I'll drop you home." 

Nothing more was said except the odd murmured direction from Stiles and Peter berated himself for being so honest. He'd had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to walk away from this conversation with Stiles but he never thought Stiles wouldn't accept all of him. 

Eventually Peter managed to pull into an underground carpark of an apartment building in Queens. He shut the engine off and braced himself for the goodbye. He listened as Stiles undid his seatbelt and opened the door. A cold hand on his cheek made Peter open his eyes, not remembering when he's shut them. 

Stiles was looking at him like he was something precious and fragile, his hand was cupping Peter's face and moved forward carefully, slowly before pressing their lips together. It was chaste and too short and not enough and everything he needed all at one. "Do you want to come up?" 

"For what, Stiles?" Peter asked, voice hoarse with emotion. 

"Forever." Stiles' lips curved into a beautiful, hope-filled smile. "As long as you want, babe." 

Peter let out a harsh breath. "Oh sweetheart, how can you think I want anything less than forever." 

"Good." Stiles leaned in and they kissed again, wet and deep, messy and desperate. "I've missed you so much Peter. I've been so lonely without you." 

"What about _Josh_?" Peter snarled. 

Sighing Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose we have to talk about that too, huh? It was part of my therapy for the drugs and the alcohol. Mark, my therapist thought I should try and move on from you by dating other people and when that didn't work he suggested a purely physical relationship.

"I never had sex, not penetrative anyway. It was hand jobs mostly. I had about three people I would have regular sex with, Josh, a man called Tony and woman named Sara. Josh wanted more and I won't give it, to him. To anyone that's not you." Stiles' scent soured with shame. "I can't-" 

"It's alright, darling. I understand." Peter whispered. He undid his seatbelt and moved to tug Stiles into his chest. It was awkward with the handbrake in the way but they clung to each other. "It's a lonely world out there." 

"You don't have to be alone anymore, babe." Stiles breathed hotly onto his neck and Peter tilted his head to the side exposing his throat. With a sharp breath Stiles pressed soft, gentle kisses up and down the skin. Suddenly, without warning Stiles bit down on the tender flesh by Peter's Adam's apple. 

Peter's fangs descended, his claws popped out and his eyes flared red. "Harder," he urged Stiles. "Bite harder. Break the skin, darling, _please_." 

Laving his tongue over the bite Stiles shifted, balancing himself with a hand on Peter's thigh before sinking his teeth into Peter's neck, and sucking hard. He did it again and the skin broke. Peter pulled Stiles back by his hair to claim his mouth. He licked his blood from Stiles' lips, teeth and tongue. 

"Upstairs." Stiles pulled back from the kiss to gasp out. "Peter, I'm not fucking in the car." 

Peter huffed and shoved Stiles towards his still open door, and hurrying out his side. They came together in a surge of bodies Peter gets his hands on Stiles' thighs and urges them around his waist. He stumbled towards the stairs, face buried in Stiles' neck. 

Stiles breathlessly gives him directions in between moans, and gasps and delicious little sounds that escape his mouth as Peter bites, kisses and licks at his throat. Peter's hands clench around the muscles of Stiles' thighs and ass. They bang into walls and doors as Peter presses them together, grinding his hips upwards. 

Soon enough they're are at a green door, with a wonky 4C below the peephole. "That is the ugliest colour green I've ever seen." Peter remarks impatiently while Stiles fumbles in the pocket of his jacket for his keys. 

The laugh Stiles lets out is loud and bright, it's the best thing Peter has heard in years. "I knew you'd hate it. I _knew_ you would. Aha!" He grins as he pulls his keys out dangling them in front of Peter's face. 

"Hurry up." Peter growled. "Or I will fuck you right here in this filthy hallway."

"Uh, my apartment's not that clean or tidy. Not how we used-" Peter cut him off with a rough kiss. 

Then he pulled back and looked at Stiles seriously. "Enough talk about how we used to be. We're not the same people, things have happened that we wish to change but we can't. So we will move forward. Agree with me, sweetheart?" 

"Agreed." Stiles wiggled and Peter put him down. Unlocking and then opening the door Stiles reached back with one hand and tugged Peter in behind him. Peter glanced around as Stiles shut and locked the door.

It was small, damp, Stiles' comic books and dvds were haphazardly stacked next to a small tv screen that was resting on an upturned milk crate. His coffee table was a wooden pallet, his sofa was stained and had holes where the foam poked through. 

There was a tiny kitchenette in the corner, a closed door leading to what was presumably a tiny bathroom and in the opposite corner of the kitchen was a bed. Or a facsimile of one, a mattress on the floor covered in blankets. 

Peter took a deep breath in through his nose. A pleased rumble echoed as he he smelt only Stiles in the place. Tugging at their join hands he made sure he caught Stiles' eye before nodding towards the bed, eyebrow raised in question. 

"Yes." Stiles responded. "Yes." He picked his way across the floor in the dark leading Peter to the bed. He flicked on a lamp, a bare bulb in an old wooden stand, it gave a soft yellowish glow over everything. 

Watching as Stiles unzipped his jacket Peter made a decision. "Can I?" Peter asked quietly. 

With a kiss to Peter's mouth, that turned lazy and slow Stiles agreed. 

Peter was undressing Stiles for the first time in a long time. He pushed the jacket to the floor before lifting the t-shirt off. He ran his hands gently over the planes of Stiles' chest. Thumbs brushing the dark hair between Stiles' pecs and under his bellybutton. 

Sinking to his knees Peter hissed out as Stiles threaded a hand through his hair. Peter pulled Stiles' shoes and socks off and popped the button on his jeans. He paused to breath Stiles in, forehead resting on the pale skin before him. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay Peter. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours. I've always been yours. I promise." Though Stiles' heatbeat remained steady and his voice sincere Peter still had a small niggle of doubt. "Trust me, babe, take off my clothes and you'll see." 

Peter lifted his head and met Stiles' eyes. He was smiling softly down at Peter, his free hand coming up to stroke at Peter's cheek. Peter trusted him, after all this time and hurt he still trust Stiles as much as he ever had. 

He reached up and drew down the zip, pulling Stiles' jeans down and drawing the waistband of his boxers over his hard cock Peter licked a drop of precome from the head before pushing Stiles' clothes to the floor. 

There in stand-out black ink on the crease of Stiles' groin and thigh was a triskele. Peter pressed his mouth to it, tongue lapping over the ink. Stiles' hand tightened in his hair as he moaned. "Yours, you see Peter. All yours, no take backs." 

Pulling away Peter rose to his feet and kissed Stiles hard. He used his teeth and tongue to dominate, Stiles surrendered easily his hands moving to push Peter's cardigan to the floor. 

"Babe, please, Peter." Stiles whined. 

"Please, what?" Peter moved them Stiles lay on the mattress and bed knelt above him. "What do you need, baby?" 

Stiles spread his legs obscenely tilting his hips. "I need you. I need your cock in me." 

Peter smirked, as his eyes fix on Stiles' hole. He quickly stripped and lay down with his head between Stiles' legs. Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest and held them apart with his hands. 

"Good boy," Peter murmured, "You're such a good boy for me." He leaned in and pressed his tongue to Stiles' rim. He gave kitten licks as he reach a hand up to hold one of Stiles' legs. There was some shuffling and Stiles rocking back onto Peter's tongue before a bottle of lube was pressed against his fingers. 

He moved back to pop the cap and slick his fingers. Stiles was watching him with dark eyes and flushed cheeks and a soft smile. "Hi baby," Peter teasingly rubbed his fingers over Stiles' hole. He pushed two in watching Stiles' face as he gasped, eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure. 

Satisfied Peter moved to his knees and continued stretching Stiles with two then three then four fingers, his mouth busy marking Stiles' skin. "Peter, I'm ready. Please, Peter- fuck me!" 

"Condom?" Peter asked. 

Stiles gave him a flat look. "We've had the other partners sex talk... Don't growl at me. You know I haven't had sex with anyone and you can't get or give anything so no. I want you to come inside me, mark me up make me smell like yours." 

Peter growled again. He slicked his cock and lined up with Stiles' hole, "that might take a while." 

"I've got all the time in the world." Stiles grinned cheekily. "Especially as you've gotten slow in your age, old man." 

With a snarl Peter thrust in, not giving Stiles time to adjust before he was pulling out again. He set a brutal pace, they both needed this hard and fast. There wasn't any finesse, no words were spoken just gasps, moans and grunts. Stiles let his legs go and Peter hauled them round his waist. With his hands free Stiles stroked Peter's skin, tangled his fingers through Peter's chest hair, tugged on his nipples. 

"Close-" Stiles panted out. Peter moved so he was blanketing Stiles. Their mouths met, Peter's thrusts became erratic as he got closer to his climax. 

Stiles came with a whimper into Peter's mouth. Feeling Stiles orgasm under him and smelling his come sent Peter over the edge. They lay together breathing heavily. Peter pressed his lips to Stiles' cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. "I love you." Peter said, quiet but firm."

"I know." Stiles giggled. He turned his head and kissed Peter. "I have something for you. It's the only thing I brought from home, apart from picture of my mom." 

Peter sighed, "does that mean I have to move?" 

A poke to the side and a huff of breath against his hair told Peter that yes, he did have to move. Gently he pulled out of Stiles pressing soft kisses to his jaw in apology before slumping onto his back. 

Stiles rolled off the mattress and hunted for something in the kitchen. Peter could see the way his limped, his thighs glistening in the low light with lube and come. "You look delicious, darling. Come back to bed, I want to fuck you again." 

"God you're needy." Stiles grinned over his shoulder at Peter. He let out a triumphant shout and made his way back to bed wincing a little. He straddled Peter's lap and immediately Peter's hand was on his ass fingers probing at his hole. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Peter asked gently. 

"No, I promise. I- It's been a while. Nobody's fucked me but you. Ever." Stiles wiggled against Peter's fingers. He held a little drawstring navy bag up, "Want your present?" 

Pushing himself to his elbows Peter nodded. "Open it for me, love." He watched intently as his Stiles pulled the little strings to open it. Stiles reached in with a long finger and pulled out a ring. It was a thick band of silver metal with a thinner band of opaque material in the middle. "Stiles." Peter didn't know what to say.

"I said at the hospital that we weren't married yet. I've had this ring since 2013. I want to marry you." 

Peter was in disbelief. "Hang on." He dropped back down and fumbled with the blankets. 

"Hang on, he says." Stiles rolled his eyes. "I propose and his reply is hang on." 

"You propose when I have lube on my fingers from where they were in your ass, just shut up a second and let me wipe them clean." Peter held his left hand up. "Clean-ish. Put it on me, love." 

Stiles' face was a sight to behold for Peter, as he slid the ring onto Peter's finger. "It's moonstone, and tungsten." 

"It's beautiful." Peter moved so he could sit up, Stiles in his lap. He tilted his head back and kissed Stiles gently. "I have a confession." 

"Is this where you tell me you have a ring in your car?" 

Peter shook his head. "Not quite." He moved his head to the side and drew Stiles' fingers up to his Adam's apple. "You broke the skin." 

"You asked me to." Stiles moved his fingers, "it's a scar, babe. Why has it scarred?"

"It's a mating bite." 

Stiles moved his fingers until the trailed down Peter's arm to link with Peter's. He gripped tightly. "Bite me. Mate me." 

"Stiles," Peter moved his face closer to nuzzle at Stiles' throat. His head tipped back and Peter sucked a mark. "You wonderful man." 

Stiles' free hand came to rest on the back of Peter's neck. "I love you," he said simply. 

"Quite right to." Peter replied, a ghost of a smirk on his lips before bite down on Stiles' neck hard enough to make it bleed. Almost immediately he felt the bond snap into place, an awareness of Stiles as his pack and his mate. 

Stiles pushed him down onto the bed and kissed him. "We should shower." 

"Together?" Peter asked. 

With a sheepish laugh Stiles shook his head. "There's barely room for one person in the bathroom, let alone the shower." 

Rolling his eyes Peter replied, "fine. You shower, I'll make something to eat." At the look on Stiles' face he pursed his lips. "You don't have much food do you? I'll come watch you shower then. And first thing tomorrow we're going shopping." 

Stiles stretched and asked "for food?" 

"For a house. Or an apartment." Peter pushed himself off the mattress, carrying Stiles with him. "I'm not staying in this shoebox for another night." 

"It's not a shoebox!" 

"It's five steps across the whole room. Good thing you're stuck with me now." Peter pushed into the bathroom and put Stiles down in the shower area. There was no way they could close the door and have them both inside. 

"Not legally stuck." Stiles sang. 

Peter wiggled his fingers, flashing the ring. "Almost. Shall we get married on the weekend? Want to invite your father?" 

"Yes." Stiles was serious, even thought Peter had been joking. Mostly joking. "I know you don't like him. Or, well, he doesn't like you and you don't respect him but I want him at my wedding." 

"Of course," Peter agreed. Pressing a gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Who says I don't respect him?" 

Stiles lets out an unattractive snort, that has Peter smiling fondly. "Uh, you call him John." 

"It's his name." 

"Everyone calls him Sheriff, literally everyone. Or Mr Stilinski. You call him John without him asking you to." Stiles winked, "you did it to piss him off. I know you Mr Big Bad Wolf, can't fool me." 

Peter laughed, he felt so light and free and happy. Stiles grinned back at him. 

"Now get out, I need to shut the door so I don't flood the place with the shower." Stiles pushed Peter backwards, he went easily and when Stiles shut the door shouted at him.

"Shoebox!" 

Stiles' laughter was still the best sound Peter had ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr](https://cathcer1984.tumblr.com/)
> 
> EDIT: Comments now unmoderated.
> 
> Stiles/Others tag is mentioned, one of Stiles' partners rings him and mentions sex between them but nothing is explicit.
> 
> Another warning: mention of underage but not really, it's talked about that the Sheriff arrests Peter for statutory rape but has no evidence.
> 
> Mention of drug use/alcoholism- Stiles mentions his license is suspended because of drug driving and drunk driving. He calls them unhealthy coping mechanisms but it clean now.
> 
> Use of the word 'whore' in regards to Stiles (not from Peter, from one of the others.)  
I'm assuming there is an 18 year age gap between them.  
They got together in 2012 when Stiles was 18 and Peter 36. Stiles thinks it's 2014 and the best part of their relationship, they break up in 2016. Fic takes place in 2019 when Stiles is 25 and Peter is 43. 
> 
> Yes, Peter quotes both Captain America and Doctor Who. And Stiles is Han Solo-ing Peter.


End file.
